Rocks and Collars
by AAnnR
Summary: What if you were something that was not supposed to exist? Would you be able to hide it? What if the people you had to hide it from were some of the smartest people in the world? What then? AAnnR OC x Near
1. Prologue

**Rocks and Collars**

**By AAnnR**

AN: I don't own Death Note, nor any of the characters. I only own Oan Avec Ula.

**Prologue**

I wanted to trust him.

Perhaps that was why I had come to follow him blindly. I know I didn't like him, at first especially after mother died but I soon came to realize that he was all I had left. It was hard to pull away from your father, my only link to my life. In fact, it was hard to anything at all without him. I had to work my way around him and with him, just like maneuvering around a sleeping lion. Except this lion was in a cage, with guns.

Very dangerous.

"You!" He had awoken. "Time to go." I stood after he did (one of the rules, never stand before the leader) and followed him.

RCxRCxRCxRCxRC

I often found myself following him. I played an active part of every moment of his life; whether indirectly or conclusively, I was always there. Watching, waiting, being. I, personally, was a give-give situation. I looked after him-I worked for him. It was the way it was. The only time I ever left his side was the moment of transaction, when my father would talk to the client. He would leave me a block from where he was supposed to meet with his client, give specific instructions on what to do (gather equipment, pretend to eat, pretend to shop, etc.) and meet up with me within the allotted time. If he was late, at all (even by a minute), I would leave without him and move myself to a nearby hotel. He always found me.

I asked about this one time, how he could always found me so quickly. He replied, "You emit a beautiful smell sweetheart. I always know where you are." Then he would tuck me into bed, turn off the lights and leave for work. He would always be back by lunch the next day and we would quickly relocate somewhere else.

RCxRCxRCxRCxRC

Our favorite place of seclusion was the forest.

The woods was a marvelous place, even to someone as dismal and somber as me. I could see the beauty carved and etched into every living creature and inanimate object. Even when my father chose to kill a deer I found the scarlet blood against the color of the fur all the more amazing. All the more vivid. It was like we belonged there; to live within the living.

I always thought it was my instinct that caused this reaction.

My mouth always seemed to water more when father brought home fresh meat versus processed meat. Moose was my favorite. When my father brought home a kill we always cleaned it together. He taught me to skin and prepare the meat. He never taught me to cook, always shooing me away from the fire/stove. I thought it was because my mother had died of a cooking accident. Or maybe he didn't want me to leave him.

I couldn't leave the pack, not without his consent. Besides, from what I know, there is no more of our kind left in the world. Humans stay with humans. Dogs stay with dogs. Wolves stay with wolves. It was the way of the world. It was the balance between ying and yang.

However, our kind disrupted that balance when we were created. My father would refute to me the reason we came to be:

_One day, many moon cycles ago - before the time of the Great One - there was a wolf name Kohal. He was the leader of the Bear Cave Central Cold pack that was once located somewhere in the lower region of Alaska. It was a pack of considerable size; one that rivaled the once small population of humanity._

_Humans and wolves were once bitter enemies. They hunted each other for food and constantly fought each other for territory._

_However Kohal was tired of the fighting. He approached the humans in an attempt to end the suffering, but in return the foolish humans attacked him. Kohal ran away, rather injured. After traveling many miles, Kohal finally collapsed. To his unknown great fortune there was a small village nearby. One of the inhabitants happened to see the powerful wolf fall and decided to help._

_When the wolf awoke, he found that he was bandaged and well. Searching his surroundings he found a breath taking woman. She introduced herself as Treahal. They became quick friends. She tended to Kohal every day until he was well. After he left her care Kohal often came back to visit. Weeks turned into months and months into years. During this time, as many females and males do, the two souls fell in love. Knowing that their love would never be understood, the wolf and human eloped._

Their children were the first of our race. Wolves called us DayHowlers. Humans called us Werewolves.


	2. Chapter 1: Contemplative

**Chapter 1: Contemplative**

I was standing at the intersection of Main Street and Bell Road, surrounded by a crowd of people waiting to cross the street. Skyscrapers towered around me, like giant concrete trees. Obnoxious noises emerged from the clumps of cars that were gathered around each other in a line, waiting for the stoplight to turn green.

The little green walking man lit up across the street, signaling the transfer in the flow of pedestrian traffic. I walked across the street, weaving through the mass of pedestrians. I had to keep moving.

I knew they were behind me; why wouldn't they be?

I was a threat. I was fraternizing with the enemy.

They had almost gotten me several blocks back, when I stopped to catch my breath. I wasn't about to make that mistake again.

I swiftly walked down the sidewalk, trying to think. I needed to loose the men following me (which wasn't about to be an easy task). I took a left on the corner and made my way to the most sophisticated system of mass transit in the world: the subway.

Slightly tumbling down the stairs, I made my way around citizen after citizen before jumping the last leg of stairs. As soon as I landed I took off in a dead sprint. The stalkers were close; it seemed like they weren't trying to be subtle any more.

I jumped the ticketing rotation bar and threw myself a couple of feet through the closing door of a subway train. I heard the men hit the side of the train, banging on it, demanding that the train be stopped. I laughed at their faces as the train began to depart and make its way down a dark tunnel.

"What is so funny Miss Ula?"

I froze, suddenly aware that the train was empty, apart from the man I saw in the reflection of the window. Damn it.

I turned around and pressed my back against the doors of the train, taking a fighting stance. The man didn't look very strong, at least compared to the men following me moments ago. In fact, I was quite sure I could take him. Especially with the way he was slouched over and how skinny he looked in his white shirt and faded blue jeans. But, I'm not one to judge by appearance. He could be one of the most dangerous men alive, and I was standing alone in a train with him.

The man put his hands in his pockets, startling me into a tighter stance. "There is no reason to take up arms against me."

I snorted at that.

"A little ironic, I know." He tilted his head to the side slightly, his dark, analytical eyes bore into mine. "However, you should know that, even if you were to land the first blow, I would win. I am a lot stronger than I look."

Suddenly the train jolted to a stop and I was flung roughly backwards. The door opened up behind me before my body could make contact with the sliding doors. Several pairs of strong arms grabbed each arm, pining me from moving. Increasingly started, they used that moment to handcuff my hands behind me, as they yelled the eMiranda Rights over the clattering of railway.

However, my eyes never strayed from the man in front of me, of whom was still (quite indiscriminately) staring at me.

Sighing in defeat, I closed my eyes as the police officer guided me from the train, up the stairs and, once again, through the bustling city. We stopped next to the street as a sleek black car park in front of us. One of the police officers bent forward to opened the door and I, purposely avoiding the policeman's hand as it sought to protect my head from being hit by the top of the car, sat myself inside. When I was properly secure they closed the door.

I squirmed uncomfortably, trying to shift my weight so I fit one of my legs underneath my butt. The handcuffs and seat belt were making it difficult. I squirmed to the side and pulled my ankle through the bottom of the seat belt and under myself. Sighing in content I situated myself, I sat up right and settled against the car door trying to get comfortable.

The car sat and waited. For a while I didn't believe there was anyone else in the car with me until I heard a small snore come from the drivers seat. Smirking, I laughed at his audacity. Perhaps he was not briefed on who I was, or the circumstances surrounding me. I refused to believe that the police would be so stupid about capturing the daughter of one of the world's most renouned criminals. Didn't it cross their minds that my father might have taught me how to escape from situations like this?

Of course not.

Not to say I was a bad-ass, because I wasn't. My father never taught me anything about his profession; I was always left behind in the hotel room or somewhere near by to wait for him. I was just a normal fifteen year old; well, as normal as you could possible be with the disability I possessed.

I was startled out of my reverie by the door on the other side of the car opening. I watched as the man from the train got into the car and arranged himself to were his knees were touching his chin and his back was to the car door. He didn't bother himself with a seat belt, only comfort. (I would have probably have done the same, if it weren't for my handcuffs.)

Once he was in the position he desired, he stared at me once more. The way he was looking at me was actually starting to freak me out. I tried to ignore him, but it was like I could FEEL the intensity from his gazing. Like he was analyzing my every movement. It was creepy and it was starting to make me sweat.

"I have concluded," He began, breaking the silence. "That you are a female."

Seriously? I thought. It took him staring at me for thirty minutes to come up with that? I was appalled. I knew I possessed a couple of manly features and wore increasingly baggy clothes, but the way he said it made me feel like I had been trying to purposely hide my gender.

"That is not all though." He reached his thumb up to his mouth and pressed it, hard, against his lip, slightly muffling his words. "You are also around 14 or 15. You have thirty-seven freckles on your face. A slight disposition to run or fight when slightly frightened, which is similar to the way animals react towards stressful situations."

I stiffened at the word animals. Could he know? I doubt he would, my condition was a well hidden secret. My father had drilled my abnormal behaviors out of my brain, and hid my other signs cunningly. No one knew about my condition. So the chances that this man could know was quite slim.

"You are very sharp, having had thought of a plan under a great deal of stress – which would have proved fruitful for you if it had not been me who was after you – and you, Miss Ula," He reached across the car, I had to dodge my head to the left so he would miss me."Seem to have a massive aversion to human touch."

My eyes widened at him. Everything he said was right. God, it was like he was a mind reader.

"No, I am not a mind reader." I froze, my eyes widening slightly.

_Hole. Lee. Crap. _

"Your an open book." He smiled at me, as if mocking my inability to hide my emotions.

"Oh." I whispered.

"Now," His tone was now serious. "Child, you need to pay attention to what I am about to tell you." He shifted his feet rubbing them together slightly, like he was uncomfortable with what he was about to tell me. "Your father is in jail."


	3. Chapter 2: Alone

**Chapter 2: Alone**

It should have been good news to me. I thought he was dead. But, it didn't really make difference to me, he had made my life a living hell.

The skinny man had wasted no little time with driving me to the nearest police station. He took me to an office and told the closest operative to have me fill out my information. The officer quickly led me to another room and pointed to the seat at a large table before he, himself, sat across from me.

"Do you realize that your father was a criminal?" The police officer asked bluntly.

I nodded my head. "Yes sir."

"He was a conniving person."

"I suppose."

"A little more than an hour ago he was caught in the middle of attempting to assassinate the an ambassador from Italy. Thirty minutes after he was taken into custody he confessed to all of his crimes. However, before he did so, he asked for a condition." The man rose one finger in emphasis. "Your father said he would tell us his story if, and only if, we agreed to find you and send you somewhere safe. Of course, out of the goodness of our hearts, we agreed, the chances of his honesty and compliance would increase ten-fold. Because of his decision, he also thought it best to emancipate you, so you would have no ties with him in the future. Though I do not believe he will be getting out before he passes away." He paused awkwardly.

Silently I raised a hand to my face and only to realize I was crying. I quickly dried my eyes and shook my head. I needed to be strong. I knew this day would come eventually. Father and I had talked about before every mission he went on.

We always said that if he were to be captured he would disown me so I could go on with my life without looking back. There would no longer be any ties to him, so I could not be weighted down. Only now did I realize what that meant.

I was the daughter of a murderer. If people knew about that I would not be allowed to move around freely. Humans tended to reject those who weren't normal or not like them.

"Alright." He went on, probably pretending to not notice how I was trying to pull myself back together. "So, now that you are an orphan with no written records about you," He paused for a moment, digging through the pocket on the back of the seat. "We need to have some tests run."

I flinched inwardly. The word orphan ground against me, giving me the shivers. I knew what happened to orphans. I had seen Annie. I did not want to be sold to some sneaky family wanted to use me for profit.

"You just need to answer these questions on this piece of paper." He reached across his desk to set the paper in front of me and dug around for a pencil. "Begin." He said as soon as he handed me the pencil.

I sat there, staring at him. I was ready for my test, why wasn't he asking his questions? After about ten minutes he seemed to realize that I was not doing as he had instructed. Apparently, that was not okay.

"What are you doing?" He asked incredulously.

"Waiting for you to ask my questions sir." He sighed.

"I meant answer the questions on the paper."

I looked a the paper for a moment before looking back up at him. "Sir, I cannot read this language."

"What?"

"I said-"

"Ya, I know what you said." He rubbed his temples vigorously. "What's your native language?"

"I don't have one."

"You do realize you are speaking English, right?"

"Yes sir."

"And you don't have a native language?"

"No sir."

"But you speak English, without the ability to write or read it."

"Yes sir, I just answered that question." I said mono-toned.

"Is there a language that you can read?"

"No sir."

The man stayed silent for a moment. He seemed to be under a great deal of stress, like he was trying very hard not to do something he might regret.

"Sir."

"Yes?" He grunted back at me.

"Could I make a suggestion?" I asked sweetly.

"Shoot."

"Perhaps you could read the paper to me, that way I can answer the questions. Then you write down my response."

He rubbed his temples again before sighing deeply. Seeming to have made up his mind, reached across the desk again to pick up the paper and writing utensil.

"What's your name?"

"Oan Avec Ula."

"When were you born?"

"December 14th, 1995."

"Where were you born?"

"I do not know."

He paused for a moment before grating out, "You don't know where you were born?"

"No sir."

"Fine." He grumbled, writing down my answer. "Since we don't know your native tongue, how many languages do you speak?"

"I don't know." This was fun, he seemed to be getting slightly angry.

"Kid if you don't start giving me answers, I'm going to assume that you're lying."

"I am not sir."

He quickly stood up, walked to the door, opened it and yelled, "L! She's not cooperating!"

I heard several arrays of jokes that were shot at the man about his ability to make a child answer a couple of questions. The cop quickly cursed them out, before the skinny man from earlier approached him at the door.

"There is really no need for that kind of langauge." He said, staring passed the officer in the doorway at me.

"But they started it!" The cop sputtered.

"Yes, I know." The scrawny man said as he walked into the room. "I have no further need of your assistance at this moment," When the cop made to follow him. "Please go fill out some paper work or something." And promptly shut the door in the officers face.

He strode over to the chair that was unoccupied and sat in it, bringing his knees up to his chin and his thumb to his mouth to nibble on. "So, what seems to be the problem, Miss Ula?" He said pinching the paper between his index finger and his thumb.

"I do not entirely know Mr. L."

"Do you think we should start the questioning from the very beginning?"

"If you think that is appropriate."

"Yes, I do." He paused for a moment before continuing. "What is your name?"

"Oan Avec Ula."

"Do you realize your name means 'Lamb With Wolf Powers' in several combinations of Latin, French, and Greek."

"Yes sir."

"Really, do you find that fascinating?"

"No, I do not think so."

"Oh, I see. Well then, When were you born?"

"December 14th, 1995."

"Where were you born?"

"I don't know."

"You don't?" He didn't seem surprised.

"No, I don't."

"What is you native language?"

"I don't know." I said, hesitant.

"You don't?" He still didn't seem surprised.

"No." I said. "This is were that other guy was stumped."

"I gathered that." He sat and pondered for a moment. "You obviously know English. Am I correct in that assumption?"

"No, I speak it. I cannot read nor write it."

"That is shocking."

"I suppose."

"Do you know anymore languages?"

"I don't know."

"Hm, ok. Respond to the following questions." I nodded.

"Do you have a puppy."

"No."

"¿Tiene un suéter?"

"Sí, tengo un suéter."

« Avez-vous déjà eu une barre de chocolat ? »

« Non, je suis allergique au chocolat. »

RCxRCxRCxRCxRCx

Thirty minutes later, I was beginning to become restless from answering completely asinine questions. As far as I knew, this was all basic stuff my Father had taught me years ago. He used to tell me it would be useful to have knowledge. However, I never stopped to realize how much my Father had actually taught me.

"I'm appalled Miss Ula."

"How so?" I asked. It was nothing knew.

"You seem to have an increasingly vast knowledge of 84 languages, fluently. That is not something a normal person would know."

"You know them too." I pointed out.

"Ah, yes. Yes I do, but that is after studying in each country for long periods of time to reach a cultural understand of each language. Can you read or write with any of them?"

"No."

"That is slightly troublesome."

"I suppose."

"Anyway, on the next question."

"What grade of schooling are you currently on?"

"I have never gone to school."

"No, I guess you wouldn't have. Do you have any knowledge of mathematics?"

"Mathematics?" I was slightly confused. "Is that common knowledge?"

"Yes. Most children acquire some sort education with mathematics, language, and science in their adolesent years."

"Oh."

"I have to leave now." L stood and walked to the door. "Feel free to do as you like. You will be leaving in an hour for the airport to take you to an orphanage." With that he left me alone.


	4. Chapter 3: A New Home

**Chapter 3: A New Home**

The plane ride was hell.

I am not afraid of many things, but I was definitely afraid of heights. So, hurtling at top speeds 20,000 feet above the ground was not a positive thing for me. I probably barfed more times than the normal person. The people near me were completely disgusted by my inability to keep myself from silencing my hurling. I showed my revenge by becoming even louder and making barfing noises even when I wasn't throwing up.

Now I was standing in front a large iron gate that stood in front of an even bigger brick mansion. The iron made beautiful swirls and patterns. On the very top of the gate spelled out 'Wammy's House' with cursive lettering. Behind the gate the grass was green and plush. Small flowers grew throughout the field, and the drew on the grass glistened in the morning light.

I took a deep breath and pushed the gate open and walked through, making sure to close it again. I followed the path up to the front door of the mansion. Great white columns created a sharp contrast to the deep red of the mansion and white paned windows decorated the walls along the 'T' shaped building. Walking up the brick steps, I walked on the porch to the massive (why does everything have to be big here?) door. Wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans, I rang the door bell.

As I heard someone approach the door I tried to make myself more presentable. Within moments the door opened to reveal a tall older man. He seemed rather strict, but ripe with knowledge.

"Hello young one." His voice sounded old and raspy. "What can I do for you?"

I quickly dug through my pockets, searching for the letter Mr. L gave me moments before I boarded the plane. Finally finding it, I pulled it from my pocket and held it out to him. "I was given instructions from L to pass this on to Mr. Roger, sir."

"I'm Roger." He said.

I held the envelope out to him and he slowly extended his hand to receive the letter. The older gentleman opened the envelope and read the note within it. After several moments had passed I heard him heave a sigh. He placed the note back into the envelope, folded it in half, and stuck it in his brown jacket pocket. "Well Miss Ula, it seems like this will be your new home." With that he opened the door fully, ushering me through the thresh hold.

Inside was more magnificent than the outside. Walking straight into the mansion, I was greeted by a large double sided stair case that led to what seemed like the second level of the building. The dark maple wood floor was polished, the walls were a dark cream color, to avoid harsh stains, and a chandelier hung from the ceiling to brighten up the room.

"Welcome to Wammy's House." The elderly man said. "My name is Roger. If you would follow me to my office and we will set you up with a room."

I nodded limply, trying to close my mouth. This was just so shocking. There was no way I was being sent to live in a place like this. I didn't deserve it. The thought slowly settled down in my stomach, creating a feeling of dread.

That had to be it, a mistake. Perhaps there was another orphanage around here that I was supposed to be. Maybe that was why this man was leading her to his office, to call L and tell him of his mistake. Then she would be sent down the street to the other place to live. However, despite the desperate nagging from the back of my mind, I could not stop marveling at the place around me.

There were children everywhere. Each room we passed seemed to be a classroom, filled with a handful of students who were being taught by people just as old as the man guiding me.

RCxRCxRCxRC

"I am very sorry Miss," Roger said. "For your loss."

We were now in his office. The elderly man was seated across from me in his leather chair, leaning on his arms. His chin sat his intertwined fingers as his glasses slide down his nose slowly.

"If you need anything," He continued. "Don't be afraid to ask me or any of the other staff that wander the halls. Day or night."

"Yes sir." I smiled to him.

"Now, on with business." He pulled a piece of paper from the file on his desk. "This was faxed to me moments before your arrival." He handed the paper to me. "It is information about you. Is it all correct?"

I stared blankly at the paper, trying to make sense of the black ink before giving up and simply nodding my conformation.

"Good." I handed him back the document. "I also have a few questions for you myself." He paused for a moment before continuing on. "What is your most deepest fear?"

I cocked my head to the side and though. "Heights."

"How about your most treasured object?"

"Why do you need to know?" I asked defensively.

"We need to keep it on record in case it goes missing or someone steals it."

Hesitantly I stood and dug my hand into my pocket. Finding what I was looking for, I pulled it out to show him.

"Wow!" He exclaimed. "That is certainly a beautiful ring. May I inquire on the importance of it?"

"No." I said, quickly stuffing it back into my pocket. "I only brought it out to answer your question."

"Oh, a-alright." He wrote something on the paper. "I noticed you have a lack of medical history, which shouldn't worry you. It's perfectly fine. I just want to inform you that we have regular health check-ups once a year around the same time."

"Okay."

"Is their any allergies I should know about?"

"I am deathly allergic to chocolate."

At this Roger paled considerably. "Is this an airborne allergy?"

"No, I only react when I ingest it."

Roger sighed. "That's a relief." He took out his handkerchief and dabbed his forehead with it. "We have a boy here who is intensely addicted to chocolate. The staff work very hard to make sure it is always on hand, especially after his last melt down without chocolate." The elderly man visibly shuddered.

"That would not bode well for him, right?" I asked.

"It would not bode well for the world." He answered solemnly.

RCxRCxRCxRCxRC

"Here is your room and you key." Roger had guided me to my room after giving me a small tour of the building. "We have already ordered some clothing for you and sent some in your room. If you happen to like a specific type just inform one of the staff and we will make sure you are equipped with it."

"Yes sir." I said.

"Well then, good luck." He said, handing me my key and leaving me on my own.

After a moment of silence I reached to the door handle and unlocked the door. I took a breath before opening the door of my new room. What I found behind the door to over whelming. I stepped through the door a quickly closed and locked it. I flung off my shoes to dig my feet into the soft, plush, brown carpet. The wall were a shade darker than the ones lining the corridors. In the corner sat a dark brown desk and a bookshelf beside it contained a number of books. In the other corner was the most gorgeous bed I had ever seen. It was the same wood consistency as the desk, but the comforter was a deep shade of charcoal gray while the sheets and pillow case were both a bold white. In the middle of the ceiling hung a fan and an overhead light and a small television sat on a dresser next to the door.

To the left of me, next to the foot of my bed were two doors. I opened one to reveal a bathroom with about the same color scheme as the bedroom. The other seemed to be the closet. Inside the closet hung a pair of gray pajamas, a deep purple sweater, and a dark gray dress.

I played with the thought of wearing the dress for a moment, wondering if I would look flattering in it or not.

_Ha! Ya right_. I thought to myself._ I wouldn't be able to hide my tail if I wore that!_


	5. Chapter 4: New Alpha

**Chapter 4: New Alpha**

I quickly found a new pair of pants and a multicolored tee-shirt and head for my bathroom. I set the clothes halfway on the sink and stripped. Finally my tail could be free! I watched in the mirror as it flicked up and against the blue jean material to the open air. I sighed in contentment while sitting on the toilet and drug my fingers through the long brown fur, trying to straighten out the tangles.

Yes, I had a tail (though I was in the habit of hiding it in the pant leg of my jeans). On top of the tail, I also possessed a pair of ears that are singularly similar to a wolf's (which was, fortunately, the same color as my hair, so I was able to keep them flat against my head). I was only natural to have these qualities, since I was a Werewolf.

Now, allow me to dispel many of the stupid rumors about Werewolves right now. No, we do not have a weakness to silver, nor to we possess an unnatural aversion to vampires; I am actually quite sure that vampires don't exist.

I had kept it a secret all my life. The only other person who knew about it was my Father; who was also a Werewolf. However, he did not gain a tail at birth. It's something only the females have. However, in the same respect, the males turn into wolves during the full moon – which is were the stereotype came from.

My ears twitched slightly, hearing a faint bell toll twelve. Was it already noon? Roger had said something about lunch being at 12:05. Signing, I slipped the new pants and shirt on, being careful to stuff my tail in, and ran a brush through my hair to double check that my ears were unnoticeable. Preparations done, I walked out of my bathroom and slipped out of the door of my room.

I ventured down the hall to main tread of stairs and quickly climbed down them. I silently followed behind the other children to, where I hoped was, the cafeteria. Some of the smaller children weaved in and out of the older kids, making a game out of it. The older ones seemed to prefer walking to talk with their friends.

The flow of adolescents flocked to a long table filled with food. The children seemed comfortable enough to sit down wherever it pleased them, so I did the same.

Moments later, my shoulder was tapped. I turned around to find an Asian boy looking condescendingly at me. "This is my chair." He said, crossing his arms.

"Oh," I said dumbly. "Sorry." I quickly stood out of the chair and headed farther up the table, looking for an open seat. My eye was caught by Roger, who was flagging me over.

"There is a seat reserved for you next to me Miss Ula." He said once I was close enough. He pointed one of the two empty seats next to his right side. I quickly sat in it and pulled my foot underneath my butt, making myself comfortable. "Now, as soon as everyone arrives I say grace, then we eat."

"Why?" I asked.

"Its because all of the children of this orphanage are, or were, brought up Christian or Catholic. We used to have a girl who was Muslim, but she moved on from here a couple of years ago."

Roger continued to ramble on about the different varieties of children that had passed through the orphanage throughout his years of being a member of the staff. I droned him out when I saw the person across from me. He had long, straight blonde hair with blue eyes. He wore a black shirt and a crucifix around his neck. The blonde boy also seemed around my age. He was watching the boy to his left play a video game, who had brown hair and was wearing a pair of goggles.

Suddenly, the blonde boy ripped his eyes from his friends game to analyze me. With his gaze on me, it seemed like his blue eyes were as cold as ice. He seemed to be scrutinizing every detail of my being, as if he were studying something that greatly interested him. Then, after what seemed like forever, his eyes broke from me and moved to next to me. After being released from the dreadful speculation, I heard the chair next my right move slightly.

As I turned my head the first thing I noticed was the smell. Not the smell of the food or the candles that were lit around the room. It was a sharp scent; more subtle than citrus, but more vibrant than the aroma of a rose. Almost like the muskiness of an animal and yet more faint as the wind. The smell demanded attention, respect. In simple words it was like a slap in the face.

Then I saw. He had shock white hair, pale skin, and white pajamas. Slowly, as if warped by some cruel time smith, he looked up at me. His face was sharp and full, containing only a fraction of fat. When his eyes made contact with mine I knew.

He was my Alpha.


End file.
